A Family Affair
by hairymclary
Summary: A series of squick fics involving the Weasleys and incest. Also SLASH. Chapter 1: PercyxRon.
1. Chapter 1: Brotherly Love

Brotherly Love 

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**Warning: CRACK!FIC, SLASH – Percy Weasley/Ron Weasley**

**Ron's PoV**

**AN: Yeah, the usual 'no flames please' applies. I know it's a horrible pairing, I don't need to be told that, thanks.

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**"They can't all be lost," she tells me, sympathetically. "Surely some of them are young enough to change."

She's right. Bill and Charlie made up their minds long before me, and Fred and George would be no asset to the Ministry, even if they wanted to be. Ron, however, and Ginny, are both capable of changing their minds. Surely they have more sense than my other siblings. Surely they understand politics. Surely they don't believe everything Mother and Father have told us. Surely they can change.

Mind you, I doubt Ginny would, knowing how terribly stubborn she can be. Ron, as much as I do. He's the best of them all; more mature than Fred or George, more respectable than Bill, more sensible than Charlie, and more reasonable than Ginny. If anyone has to change, it must be Ron.

Ron is certainly a good person. Oh, I've seen him come out of a girls' bathroom once or twice, but he was only twelve then, and everyone makes mistakes when they are twelve years old. Except, perhaps, Mr Crouch, although he is, admittedly, quite an exception.

By now, I am sure, Ron will have realised that boys' bathrooms are a much more sensible place to haunt than girls' bathrooms. Apart from anything else, boys are certainly preferable to girls. And he'll have realised that his older brother only wants to help him, and has Ron's well-being very close to his heart, if not completely immersed in his heart. In fact, come to think of it, Ron is probably more important to me than Penelope. I tell myself that this is because he is my brother, but are any of my other brothers quite as important as Ron? Or even my little sister? No. Strange.

Anyway, I know I can trust Ron to see my point of view.

I write a letter to my favourite brother and wonder whether I am his favourite brother. Perhaps it is a bit more than brotherly love… perhaps. But if that is true, then what does he think of me?

I stare blankly at the mirror for a long time, before I realise to my horror, that two hours have passed and I haven't made any progress at all with my latest report! Important as Ron may be, I have work to do.

Does he love me? And, more importantly, do I love him?

The questions plague me as I work through the night.


	2. Chapter 2: Mother's Day

Mother's Day

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**Warning: CRACK!FIC HET – Percy Weasley/Molly Weasley **

**Percy's PoV**

**AN: You've been warned, so no flames please. But otherwise, read and review!**

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Not many people have the same role model as me. Maybe not any.

So who is my role model, you might ask? Perfect Percy Weasley, Prefect and Head Boy, aspiring to be Minister of Magic. Perhaps Rufus Scrimgeour?

But no. Rufus Scrimgeour is, though I hate to say so of our present Minister of Magic, rather tactless, and unwilling to see things from another's point of view. He is also an Auror, which is one thing I do not want to be.

Nor is my role model the rather hopeless Cornelius Fudge, who was unwilling to do anything for himself and allowed Dolores Umbridge to run Ministry affairs. Bartemius Crouch, too, had his own flaws, one of which was to allow his son to join the Death Eaters. Perhaps, if he had spent more time at home, this could have been prevented, but perhaps not.

My role model was, and is, famous. Perhaps not a wizard, but he solved the riddle of the first sphinx, and his brain power was enviable.

Do you know what walks on four legs, three legs, and two legs, and is weaker the more legs it had? It is a man.

Yes, my role model is Oedipus Rex, the mythological man who married his mother. If you have met my mother, you might understand why.

I do not want to kill my father, though, so I thought it would be better if I moved away from home. I can't visit Mum any more, because I get so jealous of Dad. I had to return my Christmas jumper because it smelt of Mum, and it was putting me off my work.

I have turned to my work to occupy my mind, since otherwise I start having thoughts that I should never get into my head. I've had to start taking dreamless sleep potions.

People aren't very sympathetic when I tell them that I love my mother. "So what?" they say. "Nothing special about that?" But now, on Mother's Day, I don't know what to do. I want to go home, but I can't, I can't.

I've sent Hermes to the Burrow with a card and some flowers. I hope she'll understand.


End file.
